The City on a Hill
by RcuteGrl63
Summary: There once was a bright and glorious city that prospered like no other, until the people turned on each other. They didn't realize that they were only as great as they were when they were together and would search everywhere for what they left behind - even if they don't realize it.
1. Where it all Begins

Frail and shaking, the wrinkled hand reached out for the Book. Looking sideways toward the elderly man sitting in the brown wicker chair beside him, who was gazing across the large field that one could call a backyard, but only in the loosest of senses. His friend didn't like the Book; didn't trust it. "I've never put any stock in fairy tales and I never will! Mark my word, that Book is full of nothing but lies - it's trash!" They fought long and hard over the Book and its origins, but in the end they decided to tiptoe around this ugly spot in their otherwise peaceful retirement and so from then on the Book's title was forgotten and it was simply called the Book.

The old man who held the Book so lovingly in his hands had faced more trials than a man should and less than he deserved, in his opinion. Thomas A. Masters had been friends with Jack Rivvers since they met in Tom's first platoon and had kept each other alive ever since. These days they mostly reminded each other that soon enough they would be laid to rest next to their beautiful wives.

Tom flipped to the middle of the Book, one of his favorite parts, and had barely begun to read when a certain sentence caught his eye. This happened often, the Book was full of words, phrases and paragraphs that would strike a deep chord with old Tom. Excitedly he looked up at Jack again only to see that Jack had turned to him with a raised brow. The suspicious expression on his face was clearly daring Tom to share whatever had so excited him. Looking back at the Book, Tom re-read the sentence and, smiling slightly, he closed the Book and returned it to the small wooden table beside him.

Seeing this Jack relaxed, "Say, Tommy boy, you weren't going to read out of that blasted Book to me again - were you?"

Tom looked towards his companion thoughtfully, "Nah, 'course not - I know good and well how you feel about this Book," he paused collecting his thoughts, "Hey, Jack, did you ever hear about the City on a Hill?" Jack frowned, "The what on the what?" To which Tom replied, "The City on a Hill. It once shined bright and it would be shining still, but they all started turning on each other…"

Jack looked questioningly at Tom who, taking this as a sign of interest, started to tell the tale.


	2. The Dancers

The King of the city was a good King who loved all of his people equally and wished only for everyone to work together towards peace and prosperity. In all of the lands there was no such community as his shining city which lay on top of a large hill like a beacon to guide weary travelers home. The city was beautiful and full of vivid colors and cultures - a mirror image of its people. The King's dancers lived in the city in their guild, Lifesong.

Lifesong housed many dancers of all ages and abilities, "If dancing is what you love, then enter for you are most welcome here." The dancers ranged from classical ballet to new age and they all danced whoever they went, inspiring all who watched them. The King dearly loved the dancers and often left the castle to see them dance whenever he could.

Now, every place has its genius, a little protégé. At Lifesong, however, there was not one, but three protégés and they were named thusly; Salome, Fred, and Mai. They were three fairly young dancers who were awestruck by the passion of dance and felt a sense of belonging that came from being a part of Lifesong. They possessed such different dance styles and yet fit them seamlessly together - an embodiment of the King's hopes for the city.

Their dances were a wonder to members of the Lilt, the Poets' guild of the city, who found much inspiration from them. In fact, the poets often found their brightest and most wondrous works came from the dancers' light and grace.

Salome (who had a twin sister known as Layla of the Lilt), Fred (who laughed often and was always merry), and little Mai (who was not yet thirteen) made a trio like no other; they felt it was their duty to the King to share with others the hope and joy they felt from dancing. They did not focus on the latest news or on politics, but lived for dancing. Maybe it was for such reasons that when they did get into the rate spat with the poets it became quite nasty. For the poets who wandered around in search of inspiration also concerned themselves greatly with what was happening in their city and the rest of the world; and so looked down on the dancers for their seemingly shallow thoughts.

"What do they know of life and its difficulties?"


	3. The Poets

The Lilt had been started ages ago by a group oPf people who also wished to share the wonders they had discovered in nature and life with others. They, too, felt it was their duty to their King to help inspire and impassion the masses.

In Lilt there was an odd group of people known as Ezra Starbright, Layla Managhan, and Blake Matthews. These three were as different as Lifesong's young trio and just as talented. For, wherever they went they saw beauty and strange ideas which inspired them to write poems and sonnets that tugged at even the coldest person's heartstrings.

Ezra loved those long ballads of war and was a perfectionist if there ever was one; Blake, filled to the brim with pure emotion, loved his sonnets which could be (and sometimes were) inspired by a blade of grass; and Layla wrote from the heart, always changing the type of poem to match the emotion and feeling of the piece.

They inspired many to do good and others to appreciate the freedom they were lucky enough to be born with. Little did they know it, but the King read every essay, article, book and poem written by his people and he often read theirs with such a pleasure that they would never dare to believe.

The poets saw in this time of war, when the soldiers and the people grew steadily weary, it was best to write uplifting works. These poems gave strength to the warriors and hope to the people. But, when you are tired and angry, how easy it is to lash out at others and the soldiers felt spiteful towards the poets who wrote of the hardships of battle, yet had soft limbs and whose only scars came from falling down a few steps on a staircase! Thus, when they were feeling depressed and alone they would forget the good that came from the poets' quills and, instead, complained about the 'pathetic poets that didn't truly know what war was.'

"What do they know of life and its difficulties?"


	4. The Soldiers

Lt. Adina Bowers, twenty-six, 328th Division, 10th Platoon.

Lt. Michael Saunders, thirty-five, 318th Division, 10th Platoon.

Lt. Uriah Nellson, twenty-eight, 318th Division, 10th Platoon.

Three men who had seen it all; or felt as though they had. Average, everyday soldiers who had survived this long and would continue to survive; maybe long enough to see old age, maybe not.

They lived and breathed war and if they were on leave would still be fighting battles in their own minds. Paranoid and jumpy, always waiting to be attacked - the life of a soldier. Regular life, though, would be too difficult for them - leastways that's what they always said, after all nobody cares for an old soldier or wants to think about the battles that took place while they were warm in their beds. No, civilian life would never be for them and it took a lot out of them to not be resentful for the people's ignorance. Especially those poets!

The poets would laugh and say, "That's all you can expect of civilians," and most days Adina, Uriah and Michael laughed along and let it go… But, some days they would grit their teeth at the careless way the poets said 'civilians' as though _they_ knew the ways of war or understood the loneliness of a warrior's life. _They did not have to give up falling in love to go fight a war that might take them away forever or deal with people patting them on the back for their hard work, only to ignore them two seconds later. It was difficult not to hate the poets sometimes._


End file.
